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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691967">motion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareas/pseuds/mareas'>mareas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, he struggles but it gets better, there's a lot of jihoon in this, tortured artist and all that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:40:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mareas/pseuds/mareas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jihoon is hard on himself and Soonyoung is a beam of light.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>motion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi! this is what came of a request i got on cc. anon i'm sorry it took me so long to write it, i was going to try to keep it under 2k words but look what happened. the req was "soft sad angsty self loathing with a happy ending." i hope u like this!</p><p>so basically this idea came from a bunch of different places<br/>1. fallin' flower mv jihoon the tortured artist<br/>2. jihoon's an ode 700k first week sales post<br/>3. that gose ep where he's on the couch in his studio going "it's so frustrating when things don't go my way"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a series of emotions that bloom in Jihoon’s chest when his art gets chewed out by someone in a position of authority. The first is the desperate need to turn his emotions off completely, to shut everything out because he’s not about to let anything show on his face when he’s just made himself the most vulnerable he ever makes himself just to be poked at and dissected, and ultimately thrown away.</p><p>The assignment had been motion. Capture motion in photography, and take these fifty things into account. Needless to say, Jihoon had not taken them into account. And he was aware of that, sort of, but he felt shoved into a box every single time they were given this many parameters. So everyone else brought these pictures of clear, evident motion. Blurry background, hair mid flip, blurry, everything blurry. And Jihoon, well… Seungcheol would’ve told him he was doing too much. Jeonghan would’ve agreed, and then he would’ve told him to do it anyway. </p><p>Jihoon’s pictures were black and white, and they were closeups. You had to look, and look, and then look a little more to realize that what was depicted was skin over muscle. Tense muscle, relaxed muscle, sharp lines and soft curves. Muscle in movement. Jihoon didn’t think it was that complicated to understand. He had called up a model to help him take them, one of the dudes who modeled for the art students whose number Jihoon found on the board in front of the art building. And honestly, he thought muscle in motion was pretty basic. If anyone in class was able to infer that the pictures had been taken while Jihoon fucked the boy into his mattress, well then, extra points to them for getting it. Sex is movement, after all.</p><p>Jihoon had really only contacted this dude for him to undress and flex a little, only that, and his tiny apartment was basically a studio anyway. So he’d taken a few pictures, and the boy had asked to look at the shots, so Jihoon had stepped closer with his camera, and then the dude stepped even closer, and then there were hands on necks and lips on lips, and well… that was that.</p><p>“You said muscle and motion, yeah?” the boy sighed.</p><p>“Mhm,” Jihoon answered, busy leaving red spots on his neck with his teeth. Not hard enough to last, actually just hard enough for them to remain visible for the few minutes it would take for Jihoon to make him come and then figure out a way to politely kick him out of his apartment. </p><p>“Take the pics now, then,” he said, and Jihoon obliged, thinking about what it meant that he found that extremely sexy. Love for his art, he decided, and then started snapping pictures.</p><p>When they were done he lit a cigarette as he watched the model put his clothes back on, thanking every god that he didn’t seem to have any intention of staying. They’d agreed on a price, and Jihoon was about to get his wallet when the boy interrupted.</p><p>“I feel weird if you pay me,” he said, and Jihoon realized maybe it was kind of weird to hand someone money when they’re leaving your apartment after sex.</p><p>“I feel weird if I don’t,” said Jihoon, and it was true. They were both artists who struggled. Struggling artists. It felt like he was using this boy. This boy, he kept saying in his head, because Jihoon hadn’t asked his name and if he had said it at any point, Jihoon had forgotten. But he looked young. Not that Jihoon was old, it’s just this dude’s features made him look innocent, the way his hair fell over his eyes was soft, the curve of his jaw was sharp but soft, the slant of his eyes strong, but soft. It all came together like that.</p><p>“Buy me coffee, then,” he said, his eyes shining. Very objectively pretty. “We’ll call it even.”</p><p>And Jihoon did. He took out his phone, bought a Starbucks gift card that said <em>Thanks for giving your all</em> because he thought it was kind of funny, and texted it to his model, who was done putting on his clothes. His phone beeped inside his pocket, he took it out, read the message, looked up at Jihoon who was blowing out smoke, and let out a quiet, disappointed laugh.</p><p>“Right. See you around, then,” he said.</p><p>“Later,” replied Jihoon, but the door was already closed.</p><p>So after successfully turning off his emotions post witnessing his photography get chewed out by his professor, he left the classroom with the knowledge that he had just a few minutes before the switch flipped itself back on, and then he’d be feeling everything, so he needed to find somewhere quiet where he could rage and then self deprecate. He climbed the stairs up to the terrace of the building where no one usually went because the elevator took too long to get there and it wasn’t really an option to walk up to the sixth floor.</p><p>To: Jeonghan<br/>
is handing ur prof pics of u having sex too much</p><p>From: Jeonghan<br/>
well it sure is a power move<br/>
i’ll be the judge though send the pics</p><p>Jihoon appreciated Jeonghan’s attempt to cheer him up, but it was too late already. What he felt first was rage. Because who the fuck sets up this amount of rules for art, with full knowledge that it’s a means of self expression, and that those means are infinite and as varied as the selves they express? Why are they asked to copy in practice when what they should be doing is reinterpreting? Why was Jihoon wrong for not following the rules when art is about transcendence? He thought of the ways he’d teach a class if he was a professor and saw red. He thought about the people who remained honest to their own art despite the constraints that were imposed and grit his teeth. He thought of the fact that his art was the only way he ever presented himself raw and unguarded, and how even water stung when it hit raw skin, and how the tiniest negative comment felt like a heavy blow.</p><p>And that was his problem, really, his inability to separate himself from the things he created, that was his own damn problem that he was never going to be able to solve because there was a piece of his soul in every single picture he’d ever taken. He didn’t even know if that was something he wanted to change, but then not changing it meant that it hurt like hell whenever he received harsh criticism, and he was going to receive it for the rest of his life and it might build character or make him stronger or whatever the hell, but in the meantime all he felt was small, incompetent, and misunderstood. Pathetic too, because he shouldn’t feel so ridiculously torn to pieces over a fucking assignment. </p><p>So Jihoon spent his afternoon smoking out of his window and alternating between enraged and hurt, and then it was like it all blended together and then simmered down to the most revolting of emotions in Jihoon’s opinion, which was apathy. Disconnect that made Jihoon want to claw his face off because he’d rather feel pain than not feel anything. That’s when he started thinking maybe he was not really meant to make art, maybe he was not really an artist, maybe art wasn’t this higher calling type of thing but just as mundane as everything else, and maybe he was just meant to adjust and accommodate no matter how much of himself he lost in the process. Maybe he just was fucking awful at communicating and expressing, which made him a terrible artist because art was about connection. And it all sucked for him, because he was by no means a beautiful person, and that was okay, because through photography he had found a beautiful way to interact with the world. And that was enough, except right then it didn’t feel like it was enough.</p><p><em>You’re so pessimistic for someone so love-driven</em>, Seungcheol had told him once. And he’d been right.</p><p>Jihoon scrolled through Facebook trying to find any event happening tonight, because he’d rather crash that than stay in his apartment thinking. He found a random college party happening not too far away, and since he doubted he’d find anything better, he decided he’d check it out. Hell, he’d even bring his camera, maybe take a few pics of a girl’s hair in motion while she danced, and he’d imagine his professor’s nod of approval at something so empty and boring and alien to him.</p><p>That’s what self-destruction is, really. The feeling of giving up on his artist self and on art itself, that feels like self-destruction. That’s what Jihoon thinks as he downs a gulp of whatever is in the cup he’s holding. The lights in the place are bluish, and he thinks it’s ridiculous that someone would invest in permanent party lights. He looks down at his camera as he scrolls through the pictures he’s taken and grimaces at the emptiness of it all. There’s motion in it alright, it’s just devoid of meaning.</p><p>It’s getting to the point where he’s starting to regret his self-destructive mood, simply because this place and these people are not filling the void. He throws his cup into the trash and brings the camera up to his face one last time, one last picture before he leaves. He looks into the viewfinder and tilts his camera around, looking for something, any single thing to close the night off, and then there’s someone occupying the space. </p><p>It’s sharper. Everything about him is sharper, the way his hair falls over his eyes, and the curve of his lips, and the corners of his eyes. He dances and it’s nothing fancy, nothing sophisticated, but he doesn’t care, he dances anyway. Jihoon’s fingers move on instinct; if someone were to ask him if he adjusted the ISO, or the aperture, or the shutter speed, he wouldn’t be able to answer. His model dances, and his finger presses on the shutter, and Jihoon feels torn apart and he’s terrified that if he lowers the camera he’ll disappear. He does lower it, and he looks at the pictures he’s taken, and he thinks they don’t do him justice. </p><p>Jihoon used to take pictures of the sunset with his shitty phone camera when he was younger, and he thought he needed a better camera because it didn’t do it justice. Then he’d bought a better camera, a professional one, and he’d been so excited to finally be able to get the sunset right, and after taking his first picture of it with his good camera he’d realized that it wasn’t any better. The sunset, he learned, was irreplicable. Eventually he stopped taking pictures of it. The setting sun was so alive, so expansive, that it couldn’t be captured by something that wasn’t alive itself. It’s funny, because there’s a human need to keep track of things, to remember, because humans were made imperfect like that, and it’s funny how despite their genius, humans still aren’t able to replicate life in something lifeless. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be remembered.</p><p>That same dread that he won’t be able to capture the beauty around him with a camera fills him now as he looks at his model through the viewfinder. Too expansive under blue party lights, too alive like the sun for Jihoon to get him on camera. </p><p>Jihoon lowers his camera completely and fumbles for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket as he walks out the door and sits on the stairs. Better to remove himself from the situation than to drive himself insane looking at a boy on the dance floor. He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling everything like he’s been overexposed. He laughs at himself, and at how beauty is mostly subjective and what he finds beautiful isn’t, and what’s objectively beautiful is far from reach, and then he considers the possibility that he's already gone insane and none of what he’s thinking makes sense.</p><p>“Having fun?” his model says from behind him.</p><p>Jihoon waves the hand holding his cigarette and laughs again, the same self-deprecating laugh.</p><p>“No one who’s ever sat on the stairs outside a party is having fun,” he says.</p><p>“Fair enough. Better question, then. Were you taking pics of me?”</p><p>“Yep,” Jihoon doesn’t even consider lying. </p><p>“Can I see?” he asks, and Jihoon kind of thinks fuck it. He motions for the boy to sit next to him, then hands him the camera. He watches him scroll and scroll, and eventually he gets to the black and white pictures Jihoon had taken of him the week before.</p><p>“Right, how did this go for you?” he asks.</p><p>“I can’t remember your name,” Jihoon says at the same time.</p><p>“I didn’t tell you my name,” he says, and it’s kind of relieving despite the fact that Jihoon is definitely coming off as a bigger asshole than he probably already was in this dude’s mind.</p><p>“Okay,” Jihoon exhales. “Can I know your name, then?”</p><p>“Soonyoung,” he says with a tiny, pleased smile.</p><p>“I’m Jihoon.”</p><p>“I know. Prodigy photographer and all that,” Soonyoung says with a shrug, and Jihoon can honestly say he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He frowns. “I’m just joking. I saw it that day in your apartment.”</p><p>Jihoon nods. “To answer your question, Soonyoung, it went pretty awful. But that’s not on you.”</p><p>“I know it’s not,” he says, looking back down at the camera. “It’s hot, though.”</p><p>“What? Giving your prof pics of you having sex?”</p><p>“Doing whatever you want because it’s what feels right. But um, sure, that too.”</p><p>Jihoon smiles down at his shoes. This kid is something. He makes every space his space, if that makes sense. It does to Jihoon, at least. He’s lost in thought, folding and unfolding the end of his jeans next to his ankle, and he’s suddenly pulled out of it by the shutter sound.</p><p>“Sorry,” Soonyoung says, lowering the camera like taking a picture of Jihoon is punishable by death, even though there’s a smile on his face showcasing his teeth. They’re so wide it makes his smile look childish. This too, very objectively pretty.</p><p>“Let’s see it, then,” Jihoon sticks the cigarette in a corner of his mouth and reaches out with both hands to hold the camera. </p><p>It’s a bad picture, as in, it’s evident this is his first time taking one with a professional camera. It’s too tilted to one side, the brightness is all wrong, and it’s kinda blurry. And despite all that, Jihoon thinks it’s full of purpose.</p><p>“So? Am I a natural?” asks Soonyoung.</p><p>Jihoon snorts, pressing the button to zoom in. “Definitely not.”</p><p>Soonyoung’s smile never leaves his face. He slides closer and looks at the camera in Jihoon’s hands. “I think it looks pretty good.”</p><p>“That’s ‘cause you don’t know what to look at,” Jihoon tells him.</p><p>“I’m looking at you,” says Soonyoung, looking between the image of Jihoon and the flesh and bone Jihoon whose arm is pressed against his own. “What else is there to look at?”</p><p>Jihoon considers telling him, literally enumerating all the things that are formally wrong with the image instead of wondering when Soonyoung transformed into the biggest flirt. He wasn’t like this when they first met, which makes Jihoon think that he had also considered that encounter strictly business until it wasn’t anymore.</p><p>And in the end he decides that he will tell him, because whether Soonyoung realizes it or not, telling someone they’re all you can see even though there is, at all times, an infinity of other things to look at and pay attention to, computes different in Jihoon’s brain. It’s like being handed something enormous that you can’t hold in your two hands only. He doesn’t know how, so he deflects.</p><p>“Well, for starters, the angle’s not right,” he takes his cigarette in his fingers again. “Like it’s tilted, which isn’t wrong, it just doesn’t work with how close the camera was to your object. There’s low lighting and you didn’t adjust the settings so it made it look grainy. And you didn’t adjust the lens either so it’s out of focus,” Jihoon could keep going, he could, the problem is it doesn’t look like Soonyoung is paying attention to any of what he's saying. </p><p>“I see,” says Soonyoung. Jihoon is not looking at him but he can feel the other’s eyes burning holes into the side of his face. “Here’s a deal for you. Spend the night with me.”</p><p>If Jihoon wasn’t as used as he is to sucking on cigarettes he might’ve choked on the smoke.</p><p>“You sure are forward,” he says. Maybe he can will his flush out of existence if he focuses hard enough.</p><p>“Not like that,” Soonyoung says, like he really hadn’t thought about the innuendo in his words. “Like, hang out with me. The night’s young. And let me take pictures with your camera,” Jihoon’s reflex reaction is to object, but Soonyoung keeps going in the time it takes Jihoon to pull his cigarette out of his mouth and exhale smoke. “If at the end of the night there’s at least one picture that you can, with like, your photographer’s eye or whatever, if there’s at least one that you can objectively say is not terrible, then I win.”</p><p>“Win what?”</p><p>“Coffee. Your treat.”</p><p>“And if I win?” </p><p>“You get to pick,” Soonyoung shrugs. “I can model. Or send your professor daily letters saying he has no taste. Or, you know, get out of your hair, simple as that.”</p><p>That makes Jihoon laugh. “You seem fairly confident that you’re gonna win.”</p><p>“I kind of am, yeah,” Soonyoung smiles, and seriously, what the hell is so funny that his face is permanently like that, like a flower in full bloom? “I’m great at baseless confidence.”</p><p>And the worst part is Jihoon is actually considering it. He doesn’t have a lot to lose anyway.</p><p>“Look,” Soonyoung keeps going, “the worst thing that can happen is that you’ll have to buy me coffee. And if that idea displeases you so much, I’ll even accept another gift card.”</p><p>“You’re doing all this for a gift card?” Jihoon keeps laughing softly, laughing at Soonyoung because he’s never met someone so… well, so like Soonyoung. He’s his own thing.</p><p>“No, the gift card is my way of offering you a way out. I’m doing it to spend time with you,” Soonyoung says, open and straightforward, and dangerously charming.</p><p>Jihoon hadn’t realized, but Soonyoung had sat down with him and gathered the ocean Jihoon was drowning in with his two hands, he’d poured it into a flask, capped it, and handed it to Jihoon while saying <em>Here you go. Now live a little</em>. Soonyoung is trouble, Jihoon can tell. He is brimming with things, he has an air to him that is so expansive and curious it fills every space. Jihoon doesn’t understand him, and that’s his curse: always, his whole life, he’s been drawn to the things he can’t understand.</p><p>So hours later, when the sun is still not out but the sky is already dark purple, Jihoon scrolls past the images taken with his camera with a frown on his face. Not a single picture is in focus, the night lights ruin most of the objects Soonyoung tried to photograph, a lot of what’s captured is only a blur… But there’s something. Jihoon remembers reading about how people lose their capacity for wonder as they grow older. They get used to the world. But for children, it’s all new. Everything is new, all the time. In children, this capacity for wonder is very much alive. And that’s what Soonyoung’s pictures are full of. When Jihoon looks at them, he feels like he’s looking at the world through eyes that aren’t his own, and god damn, that makes him feel alive.</p><p>None of the pictures are, to use Soonyoung’s words, objectively not terrible. As in, they’re all terrible, objectively speaking. Good thing Jihoon is a subject, and in his individual, personal, subjective opinion, he thinks the pictures are wonderful. He thinks maybe the person who took them is wonderful too.</p><p>He sighs and looks up at Soonyoung, who is watching him expectantly.</p><p>“When can you meet for coffee?”</p><p>+</p><p>Jihoon wakes up to his room bathed in sunlight and to Soonyoung’s figure sitting in front of the window, looking out. He looks really fucking beautiful under the 9am glow, and Jihoon’s fingers instantly itch for his camera. However, it’s also moments like this where he wishes he was an artist, like the type of artist who draws and paints, because then he’d be able to draw Soonyoung without the shutter sound disturbing him. He’s kind of conflicted at the moment. Soonyoung is wearing only underwear and an unbuttoned white shirt. Jihoon wants to take a picture of his side profile, and then closeups of the back of his neck where the collar of the shirt dips, of the way his fingers are positioned, of the way he’s crossing his legs. </p><p>Jihoon reaches over for his camera, turns it on, looks through the viewfinder, and waits for the right moment to take the single picture he’ll be allowed to take without disturbing Soonyoung. It happens when Soonyoung closes his eyes and turns towards the sun. It’s freaky, Soonyoung would say, like if I close my eyes and look at the sun I still see bright orange behind my eyelids, and that makes me think of how thin and fragile they are, and that’s freaky. Jihoon smiles and waits until it’s just right, exactly how he wants it, then presses down with his index finger. The camera makes its noise, and, as was inevitable, Soonyoung turns towards him. Jihoon was wrong when he thought he would only be able to take one picture, because there’s this moment when Soonyoung turns, exactly when he realizes what’s happening, and it’s like he doesn’t have the time to put up any fronts, and what Jihoon ends up capturing is the smile that stretches across Soonyoung’s face, the embarrassed tilt of his head, his hand on its way up about to cover his face. </p><p>“Stop,” Soonyoung giggles, and Jihoon smiles wider from behind his camera. He’s not taking any more pictures, but just the fact of aiming it at Soonyoung makes him flush, so why would Jihoon stop?</p><p>“No,” he says, and Soonyoung snorts, smile not leaving his face, and turns his face to the window again. All Jihoon can see now are the red tips of his ears.</p><p>Jihoon finally lowers the camera and starts looking at the pictures he took. He zooms in, checks the details, makes sure he got what he wanted. Every time he does this he loses track of time, and it’s Soonyoung’s voice that pulls him out of his thoughts.</p><p>“You look really good like that,” he says, and Jihoon blinks up at him.</p><p>“Hm?” he heard him alright, but he never knows how to respond when Soonyoung starts talking about him. Jihoon doesn’t particularly like talking about himself.</p><p>“Well first of all, you’re naked in my bed,” Soonyoung starts, and Jihoon realizes he should’ve just thanked him because now Soonyoung is gonna go on and on about him and the warmth in Jihoon’s chest will start making him feel like he’s gonna combust and burn alive. Jihoon wonders, sometimes, if it’s not painful to live like that, in a state of constant overflow, if it’s not painful to be as large and all-encompassing as Soonyoung. He holds so much life within him, Jihoon gets scared that he won’t be able to take care of all of it. “Your hair is all over the place, and your nose and cheeks and lips are pink just like every time you wake up. And you’re holding your camera like a weapon. It’s sexy. Like those old sculptures where it’s like, a naked man, but he’s holding a spear. Super vulnerable but also armed for battle. You know?”</p><p>And goddamn Soonyoung is so fucking weird and Jihoon has never met anyone more wonderful.</p><p>“Remind me never to take you to a museum. Who knows how you’ll behave around all the nude sculptures.”</p><p>“Hey, I’m super polite and respectful and I don’t wanna fuck statues,” Soonyoung says, and walks back to the bed before letting himself fall over Jihoon. Jihoon bites his chin and then kisses it. “I have a question that  I never asked.”</p><p>“What is it?” Jihoon says against the warm skin of his neck. Soonyoung smells like sunlight.</p><p>“That night. Did you lie to me about the pictures I took?”</p><p>“Are you asking me if your pictures were terrible?” Jihoon mumbles and Soonyoung shivers in his arms.</p><p>“Essentially.”</p><p>Jihoon doesn’t like to lie. He didn’t lie to him that night either, he deliberately chose what to say so he wouldn’t have to tell him his pictures sucked. “Then yeah, they kinda were.”</p><p>“Okay. Good to know,” Soonyoung just laughs, and Jihoon understands. </p><p>“Tell me what you really wanna know now,” he tells him.</p><p>“I mean, you already know, obviously. But yeah, I wanted you to like me. Like, <em>me</em>. So I guess I just wanted to make sure that it was about me, not about the pictures.”</p><p>“It was about you,” Jihoon starts, “but also about the pictures. What I mean is, the pictures wouldn’t have convinced me if you hadn’t taken them. It was about the pieces of you that I saw in them.”</p><p>“So you like me.”</p><p>“I’m sleeping in your bed, fool. Of course I like you.”</p><p>“See, I knew that,” Soonyoung says, pecking his lips, “it just feels good to hear you say it.”</p><p>Jihoon wraps his legs around Soonyoung and flips them over.</p><p>“I like you,” he says, pressing kisses against the column of Soonyoung’s neck. He stops at the collarbone and listens to Soonyoung's heartbeat as he says, “It’s debilitating sometimes, how much I like you.”</p><p>And as he kisses down Soonyoung’s body he thinks about how those words don’t feel like enough, because Jihoon likes a lot of things but Soonyoung is larger than all of them. But it’s okay for now, it’s fine for now. The drawer full of his clothes in Soonyoung’s apartment tells him it won’t be enough for long, though, and he thinks that’s also okay. Jihoon is not very good at expressing emotions, which is funny because he feels them like a cyclone, but he thinks maybe he’ll let himself. Maybe he’ll allow himself vulnerability outside of art, and start being vulnerable by himself. Maybe he’ll start to take pictures of the sunset again, and maybe he’ll send Soonyoung polaroid nudes, and maybe he’ll tell him that he loves him. He doesn’t know, but what’s exciting, he thinks as he turns his head to kiss Soonyoung’s pulse point when he reaches down to tangle his fingers in Jihoon’s hair, is that he gets to find out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>whoever sent this prompt did get me to write again so thank u for that! u have no idea how hard it was to come up with a proper idea for the prompt lmfao here's a list of some of the stories that i started writing for this and then threw out:</p><p>-jihoon who's able to create light is taken to work at a castle where he meets soonyoung<br/>-soonyoung as a healer that can only heal if he feels his subject's pain<br/>-painter jihoon who's blocked, dreams about a boy, and tries to paint him but can't remember the boy's face</p><p>so here's the thing: idk if i like this? like i really am gonna need y'all to let me know if u liked this cause if not i'll treat this as if it was a draft and it'll disappear in 30 days but if someone else likes it then i'll leave it up it's up to u lmfao.</p><p>my twt and cc are both hug_mp3 so drop by if u feel like it! i’m always taking requests so send me a cc if there’s anything u’d like to see!</p><p>i hope ur taking care of urselves and thanks for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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